


Samson

by WhenInDoubtSleep



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biblical References, Fluffy, Happy, M/M, Post CACW, Songfic, hair cutting, symbolic hair cutting, they're just in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 21:54:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21143819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenInDoubtSleep/pseuds/WhenInDoubtSleep
Summary: Bucky Barnes has always been Steve’s sweetest downfall. From the time Steve understood love, he knew that there was nothing in this vast, expansive universe that could pull Bucky from the space between his ribs. Bucky would always be a part of him.Seventy years after Bucky Barnes' death, he wakes from a nightmare in the arms of the man who loves him.





	Samson

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fill for my Stucky Bingo Card- I3 (crying in sleep)
> 
> This is also a songfic based off of Samson by Regina Spektor.

Bucky Barnes has always been Steve’s sweetest downfall. From the time Steve understood love, he knew that there was nothing in this vast, expansive universe that could pull Bucky from the space between his ribs. Bucky would always be a part of him.

When they were young, Steve had basked in Bucky’s warmth. The older boy was everything that Steve longed to be. It would keep him up at night, the thoughts of his charismatic, strong, intelligent best friend. Steve was more than content curling up in his shadow. 

After Sarah passed away and the boys moved in together, Steve found that he no longer wanted to be Bucky. Instead, he needed to be with Bucky Barnes like a fish needs water. 

He watched young lovers stepping out together, fingers interlaced, and he felt righteous anger clawing through his chest. 

He wanted to hold Bucky’s hand on the street. He wanted Bucky to twirl him in the dance hall. He wanted to marry the older man.

The day Bucky Barnes died, Steve Rogers did too. 

And here they are again, Bucky curled into Steve’s side in their large bed. It’s impressive how small Bucky can make himself become, melting into the larger man. 

Seventy years have passed. They have both risen from the ashes, one of them celebrated, the other scorned. 

It’s a miracle if they both sleep through the night. 

Tonight is no miracle though. Bucky’s trembling in his dreams, muttering quietly in Russian. Steve is awake, petting at Bucky’s hair, wishing he had bothered to learn some Russian. Then again, it’s easy enough to infer what Bucky is pleading for. 

The older man’s cheeks are streaked with tears, and Steve just keeps petting. He feels useless in many ways. He feels like he fails Bucky again every night. He didn’t save him seventy years earlier, and he cannot save him now. 

Bucky wakes with a start, shooting up in the bed, pulling away from Steve, his eyes wide and alert. 

“It’s just me, Buck,” Steve says softly, reaching his left hand out, palm up. Bucky nods slowly, interlacing their fingers together, “This didn’t seem like one of the worst ones,” Steve comments, and Bucky sighs, laying back down. 

“They had you,” is all Bucky says, voice barely audible in the dark room. 

“Who had me?” silence. 

Steve pulls Bucky closer, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on his temple. Bucky smells like their shared shampoo and anxiety sweat (which is not to be confused with the scent of exertion sweat). 

“Hydra. They got you. And they’d only let you go if I went back,” Bucky explains, letting out a shaky breath and reaching up with his flesh hand to wipe his own tears away, “It’s stupid, I know. But it’s the only thing…”

“It’s not going to happen. We won’t let it happen,” Steve promises reverently, grip tightening. 

“I don’t want to feel like him anymore. I know he’s inside of me… I know that he’s a part of me, but some days… some days, I don’t know if he’s more of me than I am,” the words hang in front of them, settling heavy in the room. 

“I know I’ve told you a hundred times, but none of those things are on you. You didn’t do them consensually. The soldier only exists to protect you. I love him for that. I love  _ you  _ for that,” Steve whispers, brushing his fingers through Bucky’s hair idly. 

“I want to cut it,” he says then, turning his to look Steve in the eye, “I don’t want to see him when I look in the mirror. Not anymore,” 

Steve is surprised by the request, but he nods.

“Whatever you want, Buck,” he agrees, and Bucky gets up, stalking off to the bathroom. 

It’s interesting, how different this Bucky is than the Bucky from his old memories. His steps fall heavy on the floor. It’s either that or you can’t hear him at all. When they were young, Bucky was light on his feet. He moved so surely with leisurely steps. That easiness is gone now. 

“You coming?” Bucky calls from the bathroom, and Steve is out of the bed so quickly, he almost trips over his feet in his haste. 

When he gets to the bathroom, Bucky is staring at him expectantly, offering him scissors and clippers. Steve takes them both, letting out a slow breath. 

They had cut each other’s hair before the war. Bucky would drag Steve to the bathroom, sit him down and cut his hair when his bangs started to get in his eyes. Steve had returned the favor more than once. It was cheaper to own a set of scissors than it was to pay someone to cut their hair. 

And here they are, staring at each other in their spacious bathroom. Bucky drops down onto the toilet unceremoniously. Steve pets at Bucky’s long hair for a moment before he makes the first cut, right at Bucky’s jawline. 

“How do you want it?” Steve asks, and Bucky shrugs. 

“Surprise me, doll,” he says, a ghost of his former self flitting across his face for a moment, the self-assured smirk and the cock of his chin. 

Steve gets to work. He cuts delicately, watching the strands fall to the floor. He cleans up the nape of Bucky’s neck with the clippers before setting them down, letting out a shaky breath. 

“All done,” he says quietly. He’s forgotten how to form words. 

Bucky stands, ruffling Steve’s hair before walking to the mirror, going eerily still. He blinks at himself a few times, reaching up to touch the short locks. It’s almost identical to how he wore his hair before the war, the only difference being the shorter hairs on the side. 

“I look…”

“Stunning, as always,” Steve finishes for him, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist and hiding his face in the older man’s neck, “I fell in love with you when I was six years old. And if you’d told me then that I’d get to live two lifetimes by your side, I think my heart would have stopped. If you’d told me that someday I’d get to walk down the street holding your hand, I would have cried,” Steve says softly, face buried in Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky smiles softly, shaking his head.

“Little Steve Rogers didn’t cry. You’re a sap. He was as hardened as a brick wall,” Bucky argues, but he’s staring at his reflection contemplatively, “But I understand. I was so scared for so long. I was so worried that I’d lose you. But the universe is funny, I guess. Not even death could separate us, doll,” he says warmly. 

“The Philistines came shouting to meet him; and the spirit of the Lord rushed on him, and the ropes that were on his arms became like flax that has caught fire, and his bonds melted off his hands. Then he found a fresh jaw-bone of a donkey, reached down and took it, and with it he killed a thousand men.”

Bucky frowns, tilting his head to the left. 

“Samson,” is all Steve says as an explanation. 

Bucky is silent for a long moment, and Steve tightens his arms around Steve. 

“Those he killed at his death were more than those he had killed during his life,” Bucky finally responds, and Steve chuckles, nodding, “You calling yourself Delilah? She betrayed him, y’know,” Bucky reminds him, and Steve just shrugs. 

“She helps him fulfill his destiny. That’s how I always read it. Sure, she took away his superhuman strength, but she created the situation for him to fulfill his god-given mission,” Steve argues, and Bucky nods. 

“Well, I don’t have a god-given mission,” Bucky says, and he’s quiet for a while before speaking again, “But that winter you got pneumonia, I went to church with your Ma. And I prayed to God. I told him that he could do anything to me, beat me, break me, kill me, so long as you made it out alive. I told him that I’d spend every goddamn day protecting you if he’d give me the chance,” Bucky says, and Steve lets out a watery chuckle. 

He looks up, eyes glassy. 

“I guess he listened,” Bucky finishes, and Steve kisses at Bucky’s cheek, “Maybe you’re my God-given mission. I’d do anything for you, Steve. I’d let myself become any kind of monster if it meant protecting you,” 

“I know, Buck. I love you,” Steve whispers, and Bucky says it back, turning and pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s lips. 

“C’mon, it’s only four. Let’s try to get a few more hours of sleep.” 


End file.
